


Stay

by LasciviousPeach



Series: country song AU [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love, short and sweet 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 16:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17790995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LasciviousPeach/pseuds/LasciviousPeach
Summary: There’s a million reasons why Thomas shouldn’t, but he just needs this one to convince him that he should.





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> happy valentine’s day! a friendly reminder that you are valid and loved. (a special shoutout to all my ace/aro friends) also keep in mind that even if you don’t have anyone to share today with, you are still valid and perfect. i’m rooting for you all :) 
> 
> this takes place after “Girl Crush,” and while it can stand alone, i recommend reading that one first. let me know what you think? this pining is so fun to write! i’d love to know if you’re enjoying it as much as me. 
> 
> also this bad boy is unbeta read because i wanted to get it on V day. comments & kudos are, as always, appreciated.
> 
> inspired by the song, “stay” by sugarland

The first time it happens, its an accident. Thomas is in his new office - thanks to a promotion from Washington - flipping through a stack of documents that rivals that of War and Peace. He’s got a mug of lukewarm coffee in one hand, and a red pen in the other. Every incorrect spelling, grammar issue, or stupid idea: he circles. Twenty pages in, and he stops to rub his eyes. 

It’s late. The clock hanging above his door reads two forty-three in the morning, and he’s not even halfway through Hamilton’s latest document. It’s his own fault really, letting Washington talk him into such a stupid task, and for waiting until this late to start. His door is open and the sound of a sweeper from down the hall sounds in the quiet of his office. 

Thomas pushes back from his desk, and walks to the door intent on closing it. Its as he moves to pull on the handle, that a light from down the hall catches his eye. It’s too close to be the sound of the janitor,and, after a second, he recognizes the office. He keeps forgetting he wasn’t the only one that Washington promoted, and it’s not a surprise that Hamilton’s here so late. Half the time, Thomas is convinced that he sleeps in the office. 

He pulls his door shut, shutting out the thoughts of Hamilton that rush to the forefront of his mind. Ever since Eliza’s party, they had been somewhat civil. They still fight more than coworkers should, mostly because Hamilton is the dumbest-smart person Thomas has ever met. Or maybe because it's easier to fight with him than to listen to him talk about Eliza. 

The heater flicks on and Thomas reclaims his seat, intent on finishing the first section before he ventures out into the hallway. 

By the end of the hour, Thomas has efficiently marked up the entirety of the first section, along with subsections A, B, C, D, E, F, G, and H. He restaples the first section, drops his pen into it’s rightful spot on his desk, and moves back towards the door. Unsurprising, Hamilton’s light is still on. Thomas says a quick prayer, but even he doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Patience maybe? It’s probably more something like restraint. 

Hamilton’s door is open, and Thomas leans against the doorframe as he watches the shitshow performing in front of him. Hamilton looks like a mess, as always, he’s discarded his suit jacket and the dress shirt beneath is creased and worn and, as Thomas narrows his eyes on the front, definitely buttoned incorrectly. His greasy black hair is tied in a bun at the nap of his neck, but there are strands coming free and falling in front of his eyes. Thomas watches, intense and amused, as Hamilton pushes a strand behind his ear with an ink smudge hand. He’s pacing, walking holes into the carpet, and then occasionally turns to jot down a few words in a notebook placed on his desk. 

When he becomes evident that Hamilton isn’t going to notice him, Thomas clears his throat. He watches, trying to keep his face impassive, as the man jumps, turning to glare at the door. Some of the disdain in his eyes disappears when he realizes who it is, and a small part of Thomas’ chest constricts tightly at that notion. 

“I thought we were over the whole you tryna kill me with your glaring thing.” He says, cursing when his accent is more prominent than normal. It’s the exhaustion, he knows, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying. 

Hamilton’s lips twitch a fraction as he smooths out the front of his shirt and tucks another piece of hair behind his ear. “It wasn’t intended for you. I thought you were Washington coming in here to send me home.” Hamilton says, and then his eyes narrow, “What are you still doing here, anyways? It’s like midnight.”

Thomas scrunches his face up at that, lips twisting into a disbelieving expression as his eyebrows furrow. “It’s three in the morning,” He says, “And I’m here because your damn proposal is like ninety pages, and I have to get through it by Wednesday.”

“Oh,” Hamilton replies, nodding his head, “I didn’t intend for it be that long, by the way, it’s just that once I started typing, I found out I had a lot to say.” 

“I’d say that happens to the best of us, but I’m pretty sure it only happens to you.”

He gets a smile at that, and those terrible butterflies are back, full force, in his chest. 

Hamilton shoves his hands in his pockets and tilts his head towards the papers in Thomas’ hand. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah,” Thomas replies, cursing himself for forgetting the main reason he dropped by in the first place, “I thought I’d just drop this section off. Figured you could get a headstart on your retort or whatever.”

He steps forward, dropping the thick stack of papers on the desk. 

He watches as Alex’s teeth dig into his bottom lip before releasing it. “Do you want some help?” Alex asks. 

“With?”

“Well, like you said, it is ninety pages.”

“Are you capable of tearing about your own paper?”

Hamilton snorts at that, “Yeah. I think I know enough of your terrible opinions to help.” 

Thomas smiles at that, and God it feels good having Hamilton’s undivided attention on him for once. “Okay then, let me go grab the rest of the pages.”

// 

“Subsection C is a fucking joke.” Thomas says, “It’s barely related to the section at all, and putting it in here is just a waste of space. Consider how long the thing is to begin with, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Your face is a fucking joke.” Is the reply from across the room. 

“Fuck you very much.” 

A pause and then, “You would.”

Thomas freezes. Was it a joke or had he been that obvious? Was his blundering and pinning obvious enough for someone as clueless as Hamilton to pick up on? Had Hamilton just been buying time, waitting for Thomas to do something stupid so he could humiliate him?

“Uh,” He’s panicking, and when he panics, his brain sort of short wires. 

“Dude, I’m joking.” Hamilton adds on, his face a full grin and his eyes amused. It's a second later that it must click, because the smile slips off his face as easy as it appeared, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “But you’re not.”

His tongue is dry and rough, like sandpaper in his mouth, and he can’t find a single word to refute the charges brought against him. He watches, equal parts mortified and excited, as Hamilton pushes up from the floor and starts moving in his direction. 

“Hamilton,” Thomas warns, his voice a plea from where he leans against the desk. He can’t do this. He can’t let Hamilton do this. There are a million reasons why, although he can only think of one off the top of his head. 

Eliza. 

He can’t do this to her, and he can’t do this to himself either. To have Hamilton, in his entirety, for however long he can and then to watch as it’s ripped away from him without thought. Would it be worth it? To look at something - have something so beautiful - and then to never know it again. It’s like going blind from looking at the sun. He can’t do this. He can’t. 

“It’s Alex.” Alexander says in reply, stepping close enough that Thomas can see the hues of gold stirred into his brown eyes. Alex licks his lips, eyes trained somewhere on Thomas’ face, but all Thomas can focus on is the way the light gleams off his bottom lip, still wet from the soft drag of his tongue. 

Desperate for a reprieve, he tries again. “Alex,” Hesitant and scared, exactly how he feels. 

The warning has the opposite effect, and Alex tips his head back just a fraction and groans softly - any lower and Thomas wouldn’t have been able to catch it. Ink stained fingers trail across the skin off his arm, up from his wrist to where his sleeves are rolled just below the elbow, “I love the way you say my name.” He whispers, eyes on the ground, fingers skating dangerously low on his arm. 

“Alex, we can’t do this.” He tries again, his voice breaking on the end of his words. Alex’s fingers skim his palm, until they stop and Alex gently tangles their fingers together. 

He’s breathing too hard, his puffs of air coming out too loud in the silence of the building. He’s standing here, holding hands with the man of dreams, and he’s just waiting to wake up from this dream. 

“Do you want this?” Alex asks, his voice soft and his eyes on the ground, and when he looks up his eyes are hesitant and skeptical, “Do you want me?”

A disbelieving sigh escapes Thomas’ lips and he tightens his hand around Alex’s. With his free hand, he reaches up and lets his hand curl around the underside of Alex’s jaw, he uses the moment to tilt the other man’s head up just a fraction so their eyes meet. 

“How could I not?” Thomas answers truthfully, “How could anyone ever not want you?” 

It’s cheesy, way too cheesy, but it’s exactly how he feels.

Alex takes another step closer, eyes focused on Thomas’, and Thomas can’t breath. 

“Yeah?” Alex says softly. 

With every breath the other man takes, Thomas can feel his resolve weakening. With every blink of his eyes, thick inky lashes fluttering, Thomas gets closer and closer to losing against the argument in his head. 

“Yeah.” His throat is constricting, Alex is so damn close, too damn close. He can feel the heat radiating off the other man, can smell his old cologne mixed with the smell of coffee and ink, and his palm is slotted against Alex’s just so that he can feel the calluses from writing. His stomach is in knots, and he’s pretty sure he’s not getting enough oxygen in his lungs. 

“Can I please kiss you?” Alex asks, and his voice is rough and sends a shiver through Thomas’ body. Goosebumps break out across his exposed arms and he smiles. 

Like there was ever any question. “Of course.”

And then Alex’s free hand is coming up to grasp the side of Thomas’ neck, his fingers warm and wide against his skin, and then he’s leaning forward. Alex eyes flutter shut, and all Thomas can think is that he is beautiful. 

He keeps his own eyes open as their lips meet, needs to make sure Alex won’t disappear the moment they touch, and once he feels the solid pressure of another man against him, Thomas lets his own eyes slip closed. 

It’s gentle. Maybe he’s projecting, but he can feel the longing as Alex’s lips part slowly, moving soft and pliant against Thomas’ own. 

It last three seconds max, and then Alex is pulling away. Even in the shitty office LED lighting, Thomas can see the effect immediately. Normally brown eyes are almost black from his blown pupils, and there’s a high flush on his cheeks. If Thomas wasn’t in the same position, he’d make a joke about how such a chaste kiss could make him look so debatched. 

He uses the hand still caressing Alex’s jaw to bring their lips together again. This time, he’s less dazed by the feeling of Alex’s lips against his own, and takes the opportunity to push further into the kiss. It’s still mostly chaste and the angle isn’t quite right, so he leans forward, titling Alex’s jaw up further, and feels a rush of longing when he hears the soft sigh escape the other man’s lips.  
His control goes downhill from there. 

He loses himself in the push and pull of their lips, the slide of Alex’s tongue, and the sweet burn of Alex’s teeth nibbling over his lips. The only thing grounding him is the soft caress of Alex’s hands on him, tangling in his hair, rubbing down his arm, exploring the miles of skin from above his clothing. 

He wants nothing more than to strip them both and make this night better than it already is. 

It’s that thought that is his undoing. With it, comes a flood of memories of Eliza, of the many many reasons they shouldn’t be doing this. 

He breaks the kiss with a gasp, pushing Alex back far enough to see the dazed look in his eye. He looks dazed and confused. 

Alex takes a shuddering breath, and it’s all Thomas can do not to pull him back in for another kiss. But he’s an adult, and he’s responsible - at least responsible enough to know why they can’t do this. 

“Thomas,” Alexander breaths, and he sounds wrecked. 

Thomas licks his lips, tries to chase the taste of Alex, and takes a step back. He sees the widening of Alex’s eyes, the look of hurt that flashes briefly across his face before it’s replaced with indifference. 

Quietly, like he’s afraid speaking any louder will break them both, Thomas whispers, “I have to go.”

He watches Alex nod, lips curling down just slightly, and then he picks up his pen and leaves without sparing a single glance backwards. 

He hears the click of Alex’s door shutting behind him, and the sound is deafening.

**Author's Note:**

> bonus points if you can spot the led zeppelin reference. also come see me on tumblr: lasciviouspeach


End file.
